Chapter 101
Nora's POV
She reached our table, all professional smiles. "What a coincidence. I didn't know you were staying here too."
"The road was blocked," I said evenly. "Didn't have much choice."
"Of course." Her hand landed on my arm, fingers pressing just a bit too hard. "Why don't you join us?"
I pulled my arm free, keeping my expression neutral. "Thanks, but I'm eating with my colleague."
Her smile tightened. She leaned in, voice dropping. "Julian told us we need to be back in Silverton today. Apparently, something very important came up."
I kept my face blank.
"I heard," Annabel continued, her eyes gleaming, "his fiancée is coming. He's rushing back to see her."
The words hit like a slap, but I forced myself to meet her gaze steadily. She was watching for a reaction, waiting for me to get angry.
I gave her a cold smile instead. "You really love making assumptions, don't you?"
"I'm just saying what I heard—"
"Miss Foster." I kept my voice low and sharp. "I'd advise you not to speculate about his personal life. It's unprofessional." I paused, letting the words sink in. "And it might just backfire on you."
Her eyes widened slightly. I held her gaze for another beat, then turned back to Vincent, effectively dismissing her.
Annabel stood there for a moment, clearly thrown, before spinning on her heel and stalking back to her table.
Vincent let out a low whistle. "Remind me never to piss you off."
I took a sip of coffee, my hand steady despite the churning in my stomach. "She had it coming."
---
Third Person POV
Across the room, Annabel dropped into her chair with more force than necessary.
Blair Foster looked up from his tablet, one eyebrow raised. "Who upset you?"
"That reporter," Annabel muttered, stabbing at her eggs. "She's got Julian wrapped around her finger."
"You're being dramatic." Blair's voice was dry. "Julian said two sentences to you yesterday, and you've convinced yourself he's interested."
"He was perfectly polite—"
"He's polite to everyone. It's his job." Blair set down his fork, his expression hardening. "I've told you before, Annabel. Stay grounded. Don't reach for things that aren't meant for you. You'll only bring trouble."
Annabel opened her mouth to argue, but her father's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and his face went pale.
The message was from the Inspector General's office—an encrypted number. Two points:
1. Emergency appropriation required for road repairs. Expedite approval process.
2. Control your daughter. If you can't, I will.
Blair's hand trembled slightly as he set the phone down. He scanned the restaurant, looking for Julian, but he was nowhere to be seen.
"Dad?" Annabel frowned. "What's wrong?"
Blair forced his voice steady. "Where's Inspector Sterling?"
"He left early this morning. Why?"
Relief and dread warred in Blair's chest. The Inspector had already left, but he'd sent this message anyway. Which meant he'd been watching. Knew exactly what Annabel had been doing.
"Listen to me carefully," Blair said, leaning forward. "Whatever you've been doing—flirting, scheming, whatever—stop. Now."
Annabel blinked. "I haven't done anything illegal—"
"You don't understand." Blair's voice was low and urgent. "Julian Sterling isn't someone you can toy with. He's not some bureaucrat you can charm or manipulate. One word from him, and we're finished in Silverton. One word, and the Sterling family will make sure we never work in this state again."
"You're overreacting—"
"I'm not." Blair's eyes were hard. "He doesn't make idle threats. If he's warning me to control you, it means you've already crossed a line."
Annabel sat back, her confidence wavering for the first time. "I was just... being friendly."
"Friendly." Blair's laugh was bitter. "You were testing boundaries. Pushing. And he noticed." He leaned closer. "Don't touch his pressure points, Annabel. Don't go near Nora Grey. Don't even think about interfering."
Annabel's gaze drifted across the room to where Nora sat with her colleague, laughing at something he'd said. She looked so ordinary. So unremarkable.
A reporter got his attention, Annabel thought, resentment simmering. Why can't I?
But she looked at her father's ashen face and kept the thought to herself.
For now.
---
Nora's POV
As breakfast was winding down, Ethan appeared at our table.
"Miss Grey." He gave a slight nod, his tone as businesslike as ever. "Inspector Sterling had an urgent matter that required his immediate return to Silverton. He's already departed."
I froze, fork suspended in midair. "He left?"
"Yes. An emergency. However, he left the vehicle to drive you and Mr. Woods back." Ethan's expression revealed nothing. "You may leave whenever you're ready."
Vincent glanced at me, tactfully remaining silent.
I set down my fork, working to keep my voice steady. "Alright. Give me ten minutes."
Ethan nodded and left. I stared at the half-eaten toast on my plate, a nameless sense of loss welling up in my chest. I'd thought we'd at least drive back together, that we'd have those quiet hours in the car.
But he was already gone. Without even saying goodbye.
"You okay?" Vincent asked carefully.
"Yeah." I finished the last of my coffee and stood. "Let's go."
---
Twenty minutes later, Vincent and I stood in the parking lot, staring at Julian's vehicle with only Ethan in the driver's seat.
Ethan got out and opened the rear door. "Miss Grey."
Vincent climbed in beside me, immediately running his hand along the leather seat. "This is insane. I feel like we're in a motorcade."
I stayed quiet, watching the hotel disappear through the tinted window.
Vincent knocked on the window glass. "Is this thing bulletproof?"
"Yes." Ethan's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. "Ballistic glass. The chassis has also been reinforced. Standard security protocol for the Inspector's position."
Vincent let out a low whistle. I said nothing, but my fingers tightened on the folder in my lap.
Bulletproof.
The word echoed in my head. I'd known Julian held power, had seen the way people deferred to him, the way his name carried weight. But this—this tangible reminder that his life might be in danger—made it suddenly, viscerally real.
The higher you climb, the more exposed you are.
I began to worry about him. What kind of world was he living in? What kind of threats did he face that required armored vehicles and federal security?
Do you live like this all the time?